Hiram’s: Another Roadside Attraction

On a stretch of Palisade Avenue untainted by any other restaurants, Hiram’s snack bar stands proudly, an American flag waving over the iconic sign at the top of its one-story building. With its façade also decorated with festive Easter banners this week, it seemed a perfect stop to make on a walk around the neighborhood on a sunny, chilly afternoon, to celebrate the encroachment of Spring.

, a prominent landmark in the Fort Lee area, has been around since the 1930s. Tourists to New Jersey, as well as the residents, come there to satisfy their curiosity about what is deemed by many to be the best chili dog in the state. (Check out a short chef’s-eye view video here.) The stand, a humble brick structure flanked by a parking lot, nevertheless gives off a sense of promise—at least, it did to me. It has the look of the type of simple, unadorned eatery where the food comes first, and that usually means good food.

Once I walked into Hiram’s, I found stools situated at the counter and tables off to one side. The “stand,” while entirely indoors, is composed of two halves with separate entrances: one room containing tables where groups can sit together; and the other containing two rows of barstools—one facing the counter, one facing the window—for solo snackers or those who are in more of a rush. The cooks chatted with each other as they manned the grill and served up burgers, dogs and fries on paper plates. “I see our friend the injury bug has been biting the Phillies,” one said. Menu items appeared above the fryers and grill, spelled out in movable letters.

Not overly hungry, I ordered one chili cheese dog. When it appeared from behind the counter, I was glad I had not made it two: the thing was big, closer in size to a “hot sausage” for those people (like me) who are used to the modest offerings at dirty-water carts around the New York City area. The server who helped me asked, “Do you want anything to drink with that?” and just as I was about to reply that yes, I’d like a bottle of water now that he mentioned it, he held out a bottle of water. The entire meal set me back $4.50.

It’s sometimes remarked upon that hot dogs should snap when you bite them—dog consumers tend to prefer a crisp texture. Hiram’s product does not snap; rather, its mouthfeel is pleasantly greasy, almost like a giant Vienna sausage. I didn’t find it any less good for not being crunchy. A scoop of strongly-spiced beef chili provides a great contrast to the hot dog’s mild flavor, and a slice of yellow American cheese rounds out the experience. Kosher eaters take heed: Hiram’s dogs are made of a pork-beef blend.

The gritty charm of Hiram’s roadside destination cannot be denied, and I find myself looking forward to more meals there—maybe to sample the burgers and fries, or to linger with a draft beer or two with friends on a non-work afternoon. One could even see oneself buying a Hiram’s sweatshirt, available for sale there, to wear and display an allegiance to the food. Whether it serves the best chili dog in New Jersey remains to be determined, but it is certainly not a bad place to find yourself when you are hungry and in need of a break.